


Courfeyrac and the Several Amis

by Doitlikeagreaser



Series: Les Mis Disney AUs [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Enjolras, Courfeyrac being Courfeyrac, Disney Parody, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (Disney), Jehanparnasse - Freeform, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Minor Enjolras/Grantaire, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nice Montparnasse, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Other, Pining Combeferre, Pining Courfeyrac, Pining Jean Prouvaire, Poison Apples, Shakespeare Quotations, Snow White Elements, Sorry Jehan, Temporary Character Death, courferre, enjoltaire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitlikeagreaser/pseuds/Doitlikeagreaser
Summary: After the passing of his father, Prince Courfeyrac was subjected to being a second class citizen in the eyes of his stepmother, until a bespectacled prince crosses his path and a well-meaning mirror spills a secret.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent & Les Amis de l'ABC, Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy/Éponine Thénardier, Courfeyrac & Jean Prouvaire, Courfeyrac & Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Les Amis de l'ABC Friendship, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire, Musichetta & Les Amis de l'ABC, Éponine Thénardier & Les Amis de l'ABC
Series: Les Mis Disney AUs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522448
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill: I am posting this for a friend! Feedback and commenting are much appreciated, but please keep it constructive/positive! Enjoy!

Once upon a time, there lived a king and his wife, the queen. They loved each other very much, but they wished they could have a child between them. Finally, after years of hoping and praying, the queen gave birth to a beautiful baby son. The royals named him Prince Courfeyrac, and they were very happy. 

But their happiness ended when the queen took ill and died. The king, being very lonely after losing his wife and thinking little Courfeyrac should have a mother, he married a woman named Madame Thenardier, or Madame as Courfeyrac addressed her. She was fairly sweet with Courfeyrac, though he didn't like her much, for whatever reason. 

But that all changed when Courfeyrac's father passed away. Madame showed herself to be a cruel and selfish woman, and she forced the poor little Prince to do all the dirty work around the castle. She spent all her time in front of her mirror. This was no ordinary mirror, it was a magic mirror. A young person was trapped inside, but they could see into the outside world.

Madame Thenardier would snap at her mirror, “Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

A small voice from inside the mirror called out, “You are the fairest of them all.”

Contented by this, Madame Thenardier would proceed to adjust her hair and coo at her reflection. This went on for many years, Madame at her mirror and Courfeyrac at his chores. 

But one day, the mirror's answer changed. Courfeyrac had just turned twenty-five. Madame asked her mirror, “Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

The voice inside the mirror replied nervously, “I'm sorry, Madame, but you aren’t the fairest of them all anymore.”

Madame whipped around and glared at the mirror. “Then who is?”

“Someone who is quite a lot younger than you, and adolescence has been quite kind to him,” the mirror started, a quiver in their voice. 

Madame sat up, glaring into the mirror. “ _Courfeyrac_ ?”

“Only by the popular opinion, Your Highness,” the mirror tried to reassure her. 

“By popular opinion? How do I become the fairest of them all again?” Madame barked, and the glass shook. 

The mirror began to answer, but Madame held them out the window threateningly. “Don't drop me! Please! I don't like heights!”

“Then tell me how to become the most beautiful person in the kingdom!” She snapped, pulling the terrified mirror back inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Courfeyrac was out in the garden, the garden of the mother that he'd had once, but could barely remember. Because of this fact, he wondered why he still tended to it and didn’t let the weeds overgrow it. He was pulling out the weeds around the well that was looking quite green, and he was singing. Very off-key. 

“ _Some day my Prince will come, some day we’ll meet again, and away to his castle we’ll go, to be happy forever, I know…”_ He snorted, tugging out the last weed. Considering his terrible working conditions, it was a good thing that he had a sense of humor to keep his will to live alive. 

He sat up in the grass, looking at his knees through the holes in his pants--Madame took all of Courfeyrac's nice clothing ‘so he wouldn't ruin them’, though in reality just wanted to make the handsome prince appear less so in less flattering clothes--then stood up and looked into the green sludge in the water. “And to think everyone thinks it grants wishes. It's too full of the plants to be bothered with our wishes.” 

A bird landed on the edge, then tweeted at him. Courfeyrac grinned. “Do you dare me to do it?” The bird tweeted again. “Don't go endorsing dangerous behavior, now,” Courfeyrac said back, then leaned over the edge. The water looked even worse than it had looked when he had just peeked in. “Ah, yes, mother, don't you just smell _lovely_ this fine day.”

The water rippled a little, as if to respond. Courfeyrac laughed, then looked back at the bird still sitting on the side of the well. “All one has to do is make a wish into the well, and if you hear an echo, then your wish will come true. Silly right? Alright, I wish for…” He thought for a minute. What was he even going to wish for? It couldn't be _too_ bad, just in case this did actually work.

Courfeyrac smirked as he leaned back over the algae and said in a high dramatic voice, “I wish for a handsome prince to come find me and for us to fall in love.” He almost fell into the muck laughing. The bird continued to tweet at him, but it sounded more like giggling. 

“That'll be a story to tell Jehan that they'll appreciate, being stuck in the mirror for eternity,” Courfeyrac said, wiping his eyes, “No prince is ever going to come--”

“Fall in love?” a gentle voice asked from behind him and Courfeyrac quite nearly jumped the stone wall in surprise. The young man next to him said quickly, “I’m so sorry, sir, I didn't mean to frighten you. I only meant to ask for some water for my horse.” 

Courfeyrac, hearing this soothing voice, decided that it wasn't a terrifying monster and turned around. Standing in the grass, adjusting his glasses was a--very handsome--prince. Or at least Courfeyrac was assuming he was a prince, since he was wearing a very nice outfit complete with a crown, and behind him was a white stallion. There was no denying that he was _not_ a monster, and if he was, he was the most attractive monster there ever was in creation. 

“Why hello there,” Courfeyrac said, trying to be smooth by leaning on the well and tried not to grimace at the slimy exterior while he slowly slid. _Nailed it_. He bowed, adding, “Your Highness.”

The prince stammered quickly, “Oh no, please don't worry about formalities, sir. My name is Combeferre. What's yours?”

Courfeyrac was beginning to have one heck of a time remembering how to breathe. This insanely adorable prince with glasses, whose very pretty name was Combeferre, was actually talking to him. And he had no idea how to handle that. _Any_ of that. “I'm Courfeyrac, what's your name?”

Combeferre raised his eyebrow. “I just told you, it's Combeferre.”

Now Combeferre was going to think he was stupid. “I'm nervous, alright? I can't talk to cute boys. Wait a minute.” Courfeyrac thought about what he had just said. “I just revealed myself, didn’t I?”

Combeferre laughed. “With that sort of problem, you would never be able to speak to your reflection.” He flushed a little, smiling a bit to himself. 

_And he can flirt?_ “Has anyone told you that you have gorgeous eyes? They're pretty,” Courfeyrac sighed. 

The prince blushed, looking at the ground and shaking his head. “I just wanted to get some water for my horse,” he explained, gesturing to the horse nibbling the grass, “My kingdom is somewhere nearby, but he's thirsty right now, and he gets awfully temperamental when he doesn’t get what he wants…”

Courfeyrac nearly dove into the well to get the prince what he wanted, then remembered that he needed a bucket to get water out of the well. This was the last person he wanted to give this sludgy water to, but it was all he had on this side of the castle grounds. He held up a bucket, asking, “Do you think this is enough?” 

“I think so,” Combeferre replied, watching the young man reach into the dark well with some uneasiness. “I'm so sorry for the intrusion, sir--”

“Don't worry about it at all, Combeferre,” Courfeyrac called from inside the well, and his voice sounded far away. He stood up straight, holding the bucket. “You can intrude back here as often as you like, just make sure my stepmother doesn't see you,” he added, trying to sound interesting. He stood up so quickly that his shirt caught on a nail and ripped a hole.

Combeferre took the bucket graciously, still apologizing profusely, then the pair went over to the horse. While the horse drank, the two men sat next to him, talking. Combeferre noticed the hole in Courfeyrac's shirt, and offered to patch it up for him. Courfeyrac couldn't make himself say no, especially when he didn't mind the general idea of being close to this person. Combeferre took out his handkerchief, and a needle and thread, in case of emergencies. He ripped a corner off the handkerchief and used that to cover the hole. 

“Carrying rags is always helpful, so I’ll probably just keep this is my pocket for a while,” he said cheerfully. As he sewed it in, he casually asked how Courfeyrac ended up working for the Queen.

“Oh, Madame went nuts after my father died, so now she's obsessed with being beautiful. And the stepson who she seemed to care about is now a lowly servant who lives to serve to his Queen because I’m too hot for her to handle.” Courfeyrac flipped his hair flirtatiously, not realizing how stupid it looked.

“Wait--oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were a prince too!” Combeferre said, jumping up. 

Courfeyrac quickly reached up and grabbed his companion's hand, trying to stop him if he tried to leave. They both stopped and looked at each other for a minute, then at their hands, then at each other. He let go, saying, “To be fair, I never introduced myself as a prince. And I had just sort of assumed you were. We’re even.” _Well, that was awkward._

He laid back into the grass and closed his eyes, trying to not think about how nice Combeferre's hand was to hold. He opened his eyes a moment later to see that Combeferre was looking at him and smiling. “The patch is done. What do you think?”

Courfeyrac looked at the hole and, other than the difference in color, the pieces were sewn very nicely. “Thanks.” He watched Combeferre's face light up with a modest pride as he stuck the handkerchief in his left chest pocket. “You know, that is a face that I would want to see when waking from an eternal slumber,” he said, reaching up to push back a lock of hair that was hanging down on Combeferre's forehead. 

“What made you think of that?” Combeferre inquired with a sigh, resting his head on his arms. He didn’t usually like other people’s company, but this was certainly an exception. Especially if they would play with his hair a little. 

“I don't know, sometimes I just say whatever comes to mind,” his companion explained. Combeferre nodded and stared at the sky. “Do you read?”

“Oh, I read whatever I can find,” Combeferre laughed, “When I’m not out and about, pretending I’m a knight on some heroic journey, I’m reading books about the knights on heroic journeys.”

“Which would you prefer, being the one getting rescued, or the one who is rescuing?”

“I'd want to rescue someone,” Combeferre answered without hesitation, “Even though I'm not very coordinated under any definition. Besides, finding a Prince Charming would be sort of nice.”

“Prince Charming?” Courfeyrac asked quickly, before Combeferre could change the subject. “Not a princess?” He wasn't trying to be nosy, he just had to know whether or not his mind was making up things. This was too good to be true.

Combeferre flushed and buried his face in his hands. “I know, I just can't help it,” he groaned. 

“What's so bad about it?” his partner asked him worriedly. Was he missing something? Because if he was missing something important, then he’d rather find out now than later.

“It's not legal in my kingdom,” Combeferre replied softly.

Courfeyrac placed a hand on Combeferre's and he stopped. “I like boys too, don't worry. You're a grown prince, you're old enough to make your own decisions,” he said, playing with some grass.

“I know, I'm a people-pleaser,” Combeferre responded, “But I can't help worrying that my mother won't let me take the throne.”

“Then stay here. You won't get on the throne because you like boys, it'll be because you aren’t of the royal family,” Courfeyrac suggested jokingly, and they laughed a little.

Combeferre asked, “I don’t mean to pry, not in the slightest, but have you been flirting with me the whole time I’ve been here?”

“Well, let's see, I am a single, pansexual prince who finds glasses very attractive, and you're an adorable prince with glasses who likes princes. What was your first clue that I was flirting with you?” Courfeyrac asked him, then checked himself. “You _are_ single, right?” 

Combeferre blushed, trying not to smile as he nodded at the ground. “Yes, I am.”

_Could this get any better?_ “How long can you stay?” Courfeyrac sighed dreamily. He was losing his mind, just that little smile was so cute, and what the heck could he say to get it to come back?

“I don’t think I have to be back home for a while. How long do you want me to stay?” Combeferre asked, and Courfeyrac shrugged. 

“As long as you want to,” he answered. “If you want to stay forever, I'm sure I could figure something out.” 

Combeferre smiled again, and Courfeyrac couldn't believe how adorable the smile was the second time. _How did he miss the eyes squinting?_

Finally, though, Courfeyrac couldn't stall his new friend any longer, and Combeferre had to go back to his own kingdom before anyone started worrying. 

“Please visit again!” he begged, trying to not sound as dramatic and lonely as he was, but failed miserably. The truth was, he really, really didn’t want Combeferre to leave. He only had one other friend in the world, and he had never been so crazy about someone in his life. “ _Please_? I'll miss you terribly.” 

Combeferre cupped Courfeyrac's face in his hands, saying, “How can I say no to that beautiful face?” He pressed a gentle kiss on his new friend's forehead, then hopped on his horse and began to trot away. He stopped a little ways away and waved. 

Courfeyrac waved back as calmly as he possibly could, but as soon as Combeferre was out of sight, he fell backwards into the grass, swooning. “I’m in love!”


	3. Chapter 3

Courfeyrac waltzed into Madame's room, where the mirror was waiting. “Jehan, you won't believe what happened today!”

The mirror rippled suddenly, and Jehan's face appeared in the glass. “What happened, Courfeyrac?” they asked, sounding tired.

“What's wrong?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Nothing,” Jehan yawned, resting their elbows on the frame, “Your stepmother doesn't know how hard I have to work to see the things I can see in my mind. But what happened? I want a story!” They sounded much brighter now, and the mirror was glowing.

“So, you know how I told you my mother had a wishing well?” Jehan nodded. “I tried it out today.”

“What did you wish for?” Jehan asked excitedly.

“Well, I thought I wouldn't try something that wasn't treacherously horrible, in case it does work. So I wished for something silly.” Courfeyrac blushed. “I wished for a handsome prince to come visit.”

“A prince came to the castle?” Jehan was ready to pop the glass with excitement. “What was he like? Was he as handsome as you hoped?”

“Handsomer, he has glasses,” Courfeyrac sighed. 

“Of course he does!” Jehan said, laughing, “Because he’s _your_ prince! You're meant to be!”

Courfeyrac smiled. He loved spending time with Jehan, and not just because they shared the same attractions to people. He could talk about anything and it made some sense. “And he's really smart, and he's so sweet, too. I asked him to come by again sometime, and--”

“Yes?” Jehan was so excited, their cheeks were flushed pink and their eyes were sparkling.

“He gave me a kiss on the forehead and agreed to come back!” Courfeyrac announced with a giggle. He figured the kiss was enough excitement, he didn't need to bring up the patch. He could tell them later.

_“He kissed you?”_ Jehan squealed, but Courfeyrac hushed them. 

“Not so loud! She’s going to hear you!” He laughed, and Jehan shrugged. 

“Sorry, we never get to talk about royals, especially the handsome ones. They're always either too interested in girls, or boys, or they're already with someone else. I want a partner doesn’t care about gender. Oh, I've been meaning to ask you… your Stepmother hired a new huntsman. Do you know if he’s…”

“I can find out if he's single,” Courfeyrac answered. He always knew what it was his friend wanted to know. “What's his name again? Parsnips?” 

“I only caught that he's really handsome,” Jehan said, blushing. “Speaking of which, you haven't told me what your charming prince was named.”

“His name is Combeferre,” Courfeyrac replied, plopping into a chair, “And he told me he actually thinks princes are more interesting than princesses, so I might have a chance.”

Jehan sighed from their spot in the mirror. “I wish I could go out and see people. Maybe I could find a prince or princess for myself. You’re the only one who talks to me. Does this Prince Combeferre have any younger siblings who are single and ready for mingling?” 

Courfeyrac shrugged. “I don’t know, but I can find out, maybe.” A noise was heard out in the hall. “I should probably go,” he said, backing away, and Jehan waved sadly. 

“Remember to come back tomorrow night!” they called after him.

* * *

Madame stood at her mirror the next day, looking triumphantly at her reflection. Jehan's focus was split with her and the very handsome man behind her, who was leaning casually in the doorway, smoking a pipe, a black top hat fashionably placed on his head. Honestly, Jehan was more watching the man behind her than Madame. He was _much_ more interesting.

“All right, Highness, what'd you call me for?” he asked smoothly. Jehan wondered how anyone could stand to have that perfect voice. _It's like cream cheese on a bagel._ Well, they were really wondering how anyone could stand to be that perfect in general. 

“Well, Montparnasse--” That's what his name was! “--I have called you, my most faithful hunter, to go out and hunt for me.” Madame adjusted a bit of hair. 

Montparnasse rolled his eyes. “No, I thought you called me here to polish the mirror for you. Don’t you have someone already to do things like that? You’re the queen and all.” He took a closer look at the mirror, squinting. “Is there something in there, or am I just seeing things?”

Jehan froze as Madame Thenardier explained, “It's a magic mirror, so there is a person inside. They can see what’s happening in all the parts of the kingdom. See for yourself.”

Montparnasse stalked over to the mirror and made eye contact with Jehan, who blushed. “Fascinating.” 

“Hello, sir,” Jehan said with a giggle. They weren't sure how to flirt, but they hoped Montparnasse didn't mind. They also hoped Madame didn’t make them use their powers while he was here, because if anything was certain, it was that they would not be able to keep their attention on the task at hand. 

Montparnasse's face softened a bit as he said, “You're a pretty little flower, aren't you? How long have you been in there?” 

“I… uh… hm…” Jehan suddenly felt like they had forgotten how to configure words, let alone sentences. They shrugged. They were quietly studying Montparnasse’s face, watching a little smile creep forward.

“Forget just pretty, you’re absolutely adorable,” he said, and Jehan flushed even brighter, and Montparnasse reached out a hand, and Jehan tried to accept it through the glass, but couldn’t get through. The young man on the outside bowed, pretending to have taken the hand, and attempted to kiss it through the glass, and Jehan laughed. They hadn’t ever had a gentleman--or anyone, for that matter--do that before. 

Madame ruined the very sweet moment by saying, “So, Montparnasse, I want you to go out and kill Courfeyrac for me.”

Montparnasse jolted. “Your stepson?”

“What other crazy person other than my late husband would name their child something stupid like Courfeyrac? Just take him out to the woods somewhere and do it,” Madame explained, as if it was nothing, like making a pie. “And I want a heart as proof that you did it.”

“So let me get this clear; you want me to go out in the woods, shank your stepson, then tear out his heart and bring it to you?” Montparnasse said, frowning. “That’s a pretty graphic request, don’t you think? What are you even going to do with it? Eat it? Because that is disgusting.”

“I thought you told me you weren’t soft,” Madame said, narrowing her eyes at the young man. 

“I’m not soft,” he snapped back, “I’m just saying. Doesn't that give the kingdom the wrong idea about you? That you’re a killer?” Montparnasse rubbed his eyes in bored way and shook the remaining soot out of his pipe into the fireplace.

Madame put her arm around Montparnasse's shoulders, saying slyly, “What they don't know, they don't fuss about. Besides, it’s your head they’ll be after, not mine.”

“Don’t touch me, this is my nice jacket.” The young man squirmed out of her arms. “You know, if you’re going to hire an evil henchman, you might as well know that you aren’t supposed to tell them if they’re going to be the one getting the blame. What do I get out of this, anyway, other than another warrant for my arrest?”

“Ten Napoleons,” Madame answered. _That'll get him._

Montparnasse, however, shook his head. “Forty, at least. You're asking for me to kill a royal, a young one at that,” he explained, “Sorry, that's business for you.”

“Fine,” Madame sighed, and they shook on it.

“No!” Jehan cried, feeling betrayed. They watched helplessly as Montparnasse left the room. “But he was so nice…” There was no way for them to warn Courfeyrac in time.


	4. Chapter 4

Courfeyrac had escaped the castle in one of his nicer outfits. He thought he looked fairly handsome in the dark blue shirt with puffy sleeves and yellow pants. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he sort of hoped that Combeferre would be in that area. It was a nice idea, just being alone in the woods with a handsome prince… It didn’t take too long for him to be off singing again. 

“ _I’m dreaming that the one I love come finds me today…”_ He twirled dreamily in a circle, sighing. He hadn’t ever been this moony about anyone in his life, and it felt great. 

His daydreams were promptly destroyed by Montparnasse, who exploded from behind a bush, wielding a knife and screaming like a maniac. Courfeyrac screamed, darting behind a tree. Once a safe distance away, he shouted, “ _What_ is your _problem_?”

Montparnasse dropped his arm, as if all the fun had just been diluted by Courfeyrac’s statement. “I'm supposed to kill you, Queen's orders.”

The prince's eyes widened. “Why?”

“Heck if I know,” Montparnasse shrugged, “Just go off somewhere, and leave the rest to me.” 

“So you're not going to kill me?” Courfeyrac asked hopefully. 

“Well, silk is too hard to clean, and I can't rip a nice shirt, so no,” Montparnasse said, “I'm a con artist anyway.”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac said, nodding. He started walking away, then turned back. “Can you make sure Jehan knows I'm not dead? I just don't want them to think I’m dead, or that you killed me. That would make them too upset.”

“Jehan's the cute one in the mirror, right? Sure, I can let them know.” Montparnasse paused, then added, “Are they… with anyone currently?”

“N-no,” Courfeyrac answered, surprised. 

“Do you think… a flower like them would like someone like me?” Montparnasse seemed to have lost the confident man he had been before, and was now an embarrassed boy with a crush. Courfeyrac could see the worry in the man’s eyes, who, now that he got a good look, was probably younger than Jehan was. 

“Maybe,” Courfeyrac replied, shrugging, “I don’t know you all that well.”

Montparnasse nodded. “Now go!”

Courfeyrac sprinted into the woods, the light fading fast. He hated the dark, but he was really scared of the night wildlife. He hadn't been out at night a lot, so he had no idea what was making all those scratching sounds, and quite honestly he wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. 

To keep his mind off of the woods, he thought about Jehan and Montparnasse. He had never seen them together, but all he could think of was that Montparnasse called Jehan a flower. Unless one has a pollen allergy, people usually like flowers; they think they're pretty and smell nice. The scent Courfeyrac couldn't testify for, but Jehan was fairly nice-looking and was very sweet. 

His thoughts were again interrupted by the realization that there was a small house in front of him. He went up to the door, figuring that it was worth checking. “Hello?” The door popped open when he knocked, but no answer. He peeked inside to find the whole place dusty and dirty, as if the place was abandoned. “Well, I can clean this place up and stay here, at least for now.”

* * *

Back at the castle, Montparnasse arrived at the Queen's room. 

“Have you done what I asked?” she asked him. 

“I have, Madame,” Montparnasse said with a bow. He reached in his pocket and revealed a quite large heart, still quite messy, holding it by the tips of his fingers. “I think we're going to have to raise the fee, that is disgusting. But you wanted a heart as proof, so take that disgusting thing and give me my payment.”

Upon seeing the heart in Montparnasse's hand, Jehan shouted through the glass, “You monster! Courfeyrac was my best friend! He was like my big brother!” They buried their face, sobbing. “How could you _do_ that to him? He didn't do anything!”

Montparnasse felt bad that he couldn't be alone in this room for one moment to explain everything so they weren't so hysterical. He turned to the mirror and said, “Flower, one day this will all make sense.”

“It will never make sense why you would kill my best friend,” Jehan whimpered, and covered their head with their arms and hid in their knees, rocking back and forth. their shoulders were shaking horribly.

“At last! _Now_ Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” Madame cackled, causing Montparnasse to jump.

Jehan sniffed. “I don't want to, I’ve been doing this all day… I'm so tired--” Madame picked up a jar from the table and threatened to smash it against the glass, and Jehan pressed their hands against their head, trying to see. Their eyebrows furrowed. “I don't understand… he's dead… ”

Montparnasse stiffened. “Oh, what the--”

“Wait a minute.” Madame looked closer at the heart. “There is no human who has that kind of heart.” she turned to Montparnasse and shouted, “You traitor!”

Montparnasse shrugged. “Well, you told me you wanted a heart, so I gave you one. I can see why you'd want one, women always want things they don’t have,” he added.

Madame was furious. She threw the jar at Montparnasse, who instinctively ducked, causing the jar to bounce off the mirror, shaking it. The two others watched in horror as the mirror slipped off its nail on the wall and plummeted to the floor.

Montparnasse grabbed it as it was about to crash, then set it on the floor, and Jehan whispered, “He's alive? You really let him live? Please tell me.”

“He's alright, a bit shocked, but alright. He wanted me to tell you that,” Montparnasse said, and Jehan pointed at the door with begging their eyes.

“Go, before she kills you,” they pleaded, tears filling their huge, sad eyes. The man didn't move. “Please? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The big, pleading eyes were asking for an embrace, but they wanted him to leave them behind. He couldn’t possibly be expected to leave this defenseless, fragile flower to their own devices, could he? Finally, after one more obscene threat from Madame, Montparnasse left as quickly as he could. But as he went, he couldn't stop thinking, _How did I get mixed up in this?_


	5. Chapter 5

Courfeyrac was really coming along in fixing up the abandoned house. Because he hated the silence, he was off talking to himself again, and added dancing with the broomstick he had found in a closet. He waltzed around the room--or more accurately, _tripped_ around the room holding the broomstick like a partner. 

“I wish I could dance, maybe I could do it with him,” he sighed, setting the broom down and picking up the sponge and wiped the windows.

Despite the distraction, the dishes were done so they sparkled, the floor was scrubbed, and the--multiple--beds were made. He wasn't sure why they were so many beds, but that didn’t seem important. Maybe it had been an inn before he came. He had no idea, and no wish to know. 

When he finished, he was so tired, he fell asleep immediately. It had been a long day. He was so sound asleep, he didn't hear the front door open. He didn't hear the several pairs of feet scuttling across the room. 

“Something’s wrong,” a voice whispered. 

“What’s wrong, Enjolras?” another voice asked. 

There was sniffing, then, “I smell cleaning products. I think Joly is the only one here who ever uses cleaning products in large quantities.”

“I think you would’ve smelled it before we left if he had used that much bleach,” another voice said, “Besides, he never uses that much.”

There was a very young voice that nearly shouted, “Maybe it was a murder!”

“Gavroche, quiet down, there’s no need to be so loud,” the first voice commanded sharply, then said, “Hm.” 

“Well, we have only one candle, so let’s just go to bed and deal with it later?” a female voice added. “It’s awfully late.”

What really woke Courfeyrac up was the sudden weight of a person on top of him. “Aah!”

The person shrieked, causing a complete uproar. There were suddenly multiple people in the room, all making noise. Someone managed to get a candle lit in the craziness, shining the light on the source of the ruckus. Courfeyrac cowered in a corner near the person who landed on him, who was bald. They were both shaking.

“Who are you?” The person with the candle. They were most likely female, by the voice. 

“Courfeyrac,” he replied, shaking, He was trying not to start crying, but it was hard. Fear had paralyzed him.

The voice asked, “Are both of you all right?”

A tall blond man came into the circle of light. “What are you doing in our house?”

“I'm sorry, I didn't know this place wasn't abandoned, I just got a death sentence from my stepmother and I don't want to die so I hid in here and I cleaned a little… Please don't kill me… ” Courfeyrac's eyes were watering, and he curled up into a little ball.

“I think we scared him,” said a soft voice from the back. Courfeyrac looked up to see a brown-haired man coming over to him. “Hi, Courfeyrac,” he said with a smile, “I'm Marius. This is Musichetta, there's Bossuet, and he's Enjolras.”

“What the heck is going on? I’m trying to sleep,” A loud, slurred voice called out. 

“Maybe if you weren't dead drunk, you would've been able to catch up,” Enjolras snapped. 

“How are you even married?” A red haired man called from the corner. 

Marius took the candle from Musichetta and began showing Courfeyrac around. “Grantaire, Feuilly, Bahorel, Joly, these lovely ladies are my girlfriends Eponine and Cosette, and here's Gavroche.”

Gavroche was a very young boy, probably about twelve years old, and he took to Courfeyrac right away. They got distracted in a conversation about how Gavroche's little joke he was planning to pull. Courfeyrac knew exactly how to make it _foolproof_ . 

“Can we keep him? Please?” Gavroche begged Enjolras, who seemed to be the head of the group. 

He looked at both of them and rubbed his forehead. “As long as he can keep his area clean, fine. I'm tired.” He went over to a bed, which was occupied by the man called Grantaire, and curled up under the blanket. Grantaire put his arm around him with a soft snore. He was already asleep.

Marius guided Courfeyrac to his own bed, where there was a blond girl and a brunette curled up. “You can sleep in here for now. Trust me, it’s safe.”

Courfeyrac snuggled under the blanket, keeping himself a good distance from the bed’s other residents. “I don’t want to bother you,” he said quietly. 

“It’s not bothering when he suggested it,” the brunette, whose name was Eponine, replied sleepily.

Finally, Courfeyrac was able to calm himself down enough to fall asleep, after awhile.


	6. Chapter 6

Off in a nearby kingdom, Combeferre was trapped by his mother for several days, doing the regular things that princes his age should be doing. For example, finding a suitable princess to marry. 

He would be rather sit through another lecture about princes needing to be less interested in books and riding on a horse and pretending that he had a shot at being a real Prince Charming and more on what was necessary for the future of the kingdom.

She brought in multiple options for him to choose from, but he couldn't help comparing them to Courfeyrac. This one doesn't laugh as much as he does, that one doesn't take as much interest in him as a person as he does. Of course, he never said this to his mother. She would never approve.

Though they'd met by chance, and Combeferre wasn't one to believe in fate, if there ever was a time he would, it was now. It was so perfect, there was probably a story he'd read at some point where the Prince met his fair maiden that way. Courfeyrac wasn't a maiden, but that was as close as he was going to get. 

“Mother,” Combeferre said after yet another princess was shown out the door, “I might be able to help you.”

“And what might that be?” The queen inquired hopefully.

Combeferre hadn't planned on this, but the last girl had got on his nerves, all laces and frills, more straight-man attracting than he could tolerate in general. “I don't want to marry a woman. Men are far more attractive.” There, he said it.

The Queen paused for a moment, processing this. She finally said, “Oh, Combeferre, thank you for telling me. I'm so glad you said something to me about it. Don't you worry yourself, I will find someone to help you out.”

“Help me with what?” Combeferre asked, getting a little concerned.

“Why, getting that fixed, of course!” she answered, “You don't want to live that way your whole life, do you?”

“I mean no disrespect, Mother, but yes. I would like to live that way my whole life. I really told you that so you would stop trying to find a wife for me. I would prefer to marry a man, actually,” Combeferre explained, feeling slightly embarrassed that this was how the conversation was going. 

His mother kept going on about how the kingdom would be better run if he had a queen by his side, and that it was unhealthy for him to be so involved with another man, and finally he had enough. He stood up from his seat, saying, “Mother, I told you that information with the hope that you would understand, but seeing as you don't, I feel it necessary to take my leave.” And with that, he bowed respectfully, and left the room for the last time. 

When he got outside, he saddled his horse, and rode off into the woods. Once there, he slipped off his horse and sniffed, trying to keep his emotions down, even though he was in the woods where no one could see him. He just wanted to have someone he could be with and not think he was crazy. Combeferre didn't think that was too much to ask.

* * *

Back at Madame's castle, she was hard at work trying to figure out how to get rid Courfeyrac once and for all. She had Jehan, forcing them to see where Courfeyrac was at the time. Since he was so close to the kingdom's border, it was even harder for them to see. 

But Madame was persistent. She had a whole plan set up. First, find out where Courfeyrac was. Second, find out the one person he would trust the most in the world. Everything would be in place from there. 

“Where is he?” she demanded from her prisoner. They had gone through quite a few nights with interrupted sleep and not a lot of food, and they were tired of it. 

“I don’t know where he is, I can’t see him,” Jehan whimpered. 

“Well, the I guess I’ll get the potion ready until you decide to tell me,” Madame growled, heading to her secret lair under the castle. She had discovered a hidden passageway that led to a dark, empty room, and it was here that she mixed spells and potions, which were probably illegal, but she still did it anyway. 

“All right, then. Let’s see, something that will kill him, hmm--” Madame scanned her bookshelves, knowing she had some kind of deadly potion recipe somewhere. “Ah, there it is.” She pulled out the heavy book, blew the dust off the top, sending a cascade of spiders along with it, and opened it on her desk. 

“So, to make revenge, I’ll need one cup of venom, two tablespoons of toxins, a pint of hatred, and a pinch of betrayal. Serve cold. This should be fun.” Madame put the ingredients into a bowl and mixed them around, then pulled an apple out of the tray she kept in her lair--in case she was hungry--and dipped it into the sludge. The green apple turned red from the potion. 

Madame took a second look at the recipe. “There's a cure for this? Seriously? ‘True love’s first kiss,’ hm? We'll see how that goes for him. True love doesn't exist in people that young. I don't have to worry about that. Though, he won't take anything from me. I need some else to bring it. Unless...” she grinned. “Jehan, dear, who would you say Courfeyrac trusts the most in the world? Perhaps… someone he cares about an awful lot, maybe someone who he fancies he’s in _love_ with?”


	7. Chapter 7

Courfeyrac, unaware that this was happening, was having a delightful time living in the woods with Les Amis, as they called themselves. He could cook tolerably well, so they all took turns making meals, though Gavroche and Courfeyrac had a habit of putting something unpleasant, but not toxic, in someone’s food. 

He could cook tolerably well--only half-burnt, usually--and didn't really mind Joly's hand-washing rule before meals. Though the first day was chaotic. To start, Courfeyrac was used to being forced to get up at five in the morning to do chores, and Les Amis were lucky if they got up before nine. So the first morning they were woken at six to the crash of dishes in the sink. 

Courfeyrac also always felt like he had to clean every surface he used, as to not get yelled at. He would've been fine if Madame had not put the fear of her in him when living in the castle. Enjolras was close to shouting at him for following him around with a rag, wiping down everything. He didn't actually _want_ to clean the place, he just felt like he'd get kicked out if he didn't. Feuilly had to take the rag away and tell him that before he disinfected the counter for the thirtieth time. Les Amis figured the castle had to be the cleanest place ever. Joly, however, appreciated the neatness.

Enjolras and Grantaire got into several arguments daily, but they were eventually worked out; Courfeyrac was evidently very good at relieving the awkward tension with jokes. Bossuet was continuously tripping over something, and Courfeyrac seemed to know where to stop with the joking around about it. Musichetta loved having him around, having someone to discuss _her_ type of books with for once. She’d rather read adventure novels than the medical books Joly kept around. When Feuilly and Bahorel were struggling to dance properly--they had taken a class together a while before, but seemingly they’d forgotten how--he was able to help… a little bit. 

“Just go like this, watch-- _take me into your loving arms, kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Oh, darling, place your head on my beating heart. I’m thinking out loud, maybe we found love right where we are… ”_ Courfeyrac said, taking his trusty broomstick and twirling around with it. They were able to get it very quickly after that, and were thankful for the help. 

Marius became a good friend of his as well, and they would talk about love together. Marius himself didn’t have many people to talk to on the subject, but Courfeyrac was more than willing.

“Have you ever been in love, Courfeyrac?” he asked his friend one day while they were weeding out the garden. 

Courfeyrac sat up, eyes wide. “ _Yes.”_

“With who?” Marius was interested, and Eponine and Cosette looked up. 

Courfeyrac sat down in the dirt, messing with some leaves in his hand. “His name’s Combeferre. He’s a prince.”

“Oh, great, another love-crazy person,” Enjolras groaned, going back inside. 

“Why do you go to dinner with Grantaire and without the rest of us, then?” Marius replied, then looked back at Courfeyrac. “Please continue your story.”

“He’s really nice, and he’s smart,” Courfeyrac said, starting to giggle a little in embarrassment. “And he’s extremely handsome. I can’t wait to see him again.” Suddenly all the humor drained from his face. “Oh no. He came by a few days ago and I told him he could come over again. And I can’t go back.” He started pulling at his hair in a panic, and Marius grabbed his hands. 

“Relax, it’ll be alright, Courfeyrac, you’ll find him again soon enough,” his friend assured him. “That’s how love works.”

“Is it? I’ve never been in love before this, I don’t think. Maybe after some time goes by, maybe in the spring, he’ll come by here, or I’ll go back for a while, and I’ll see him then.”

“You know what his name is, right?” Enjolras called from the window. 

“Yes! I already told Marius his name’s Combeferre, and he’s perfect!” Courfeyrac replied, smiling at the name. It was so pretty… “He’s like the prince from my dreams!”

“Oh, good. You see, Marius came here crazy over _two_ girls, and he didn’t even know their names.” Enjolras sighed, “And trust me, I would never be able to make this up. I have no problem with there being multiple partners. It’s just that you shouldn’t be able to walk into a room and claim you’re in love with the person sitting across the room.”

“For your information, I didn’t see them across the room. I saw them across the street. But either way, I found them, didn’t I? Fate works in mysterious ways.” Marius grinned. “Don’t mind Enjolras. How do you think you'll meet him?”

“It’ll be so romantic and thrilling…” Courfeyrac sighed, tugging a weed out of the ground and dramatically whipping it over his shoulder. “I’ll tell him how much that I care about him. Maybe I might kiss him, but only if he’s alright with it. If he isn’t, I won’t. Him being comfortable is more important.”

“That’s a good idea, to ask first, because I wouldn’t want to be kissed on the mouth. That’s disgusting,” Enjolras agreed, and Grantaire, as if on cue, caught him around the waist and kissed him on the cheek. 

“I just want something like what you two have,” Courfeyrac said, pointing to Enjolras and Grantaire. “I want someone to call me theirs. To be with someone and annoy them playfully, and not being able to help but adore them, and have them adore me back. Having my heart flutter when they walk in a room. That’s what I hope happens.”

“That is a fairly tall order,” Enjolras said, letting Grantaire bury him in hugs, “But you might get it.” 

“Oh, I hope so…” Courfeyrac, looking up at the sky. “Someday, my prince will come.”


	8. Chapter 8

A few days later, all of the Amis were going out. Well, almost all the Amis. Courfeyrac volunteered to stay home and make sure no one robbed the house. They usually kept a person at home--the day Courfeyrac came was an exception--while everyone else was out. 

He was working on a surprise pie when the door knocked. He looked at the door suspiciously. No one was supposed to be home for hours, and besides, they would’ve just come in. 

He slipped over to the door, and opened it carefully. To his surprise, it was Combeferre standing outside. 

“Oh! It’s you! Hello, again,” Courfeyrac said with a sigh of relief. He was smitten again in a moment. How the world could stand having such a perfect human in it who was also single was shocking. 

“Hello, my dear--friend,” Combeferre said with a bit of a stammer, and he sounded awful. His voice sounded more like an seventy-year-old man with a breathing problem than a twenty-something year-old man who didn’t appear to have any health issues as of the last time Courfeyrac had seen him. Actually, it sounded more like a woman pretending to be a man, if he was honest.

Courfeyrac’s eyebrows knitted with concern. “Are you all right? You sound… feminine.”

“Yes, yes, just--a bit of a cold, that’s all,” Combeferre replied, clearing his throat. Courfeyrac opened the door a bit wider so his friend could come in. 

“How did you find me?” he asked, holding out a chair so Combeferre could sit. Someone that sick should rest as much as humanly possible. 

“‘ _With love’s light wings did I o'erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me._ ’” Combeferre smiled a little too big. “Also, my kingdom is having quite a harvest of apples, so I thought I would bring you one.” He held out a red apple. 

Courfeyrac scratched his head. “That ‘love’s over there attempting to get stoned, you kingsmen aren’t stopping me now,’ that was something Shakespeare, right?” 

“Yes, one of the best lines from Julius Caesar,” Combeferre replied as Courfeyrac was about to take a bite. 

“Actually, I think it was Romeo who said it,” Courfeyrac said, and Combeferre looked a bit disappointed that Courfeyrac hadn’t tried the apple yet. It was a bright, almost glowing red. “It’s a pretty famous quote.”

“Yes, indeed it is,” Combeferre said, taking out his handkerchief as Courfeyrac nibbled at the apple, and his nose wrinkled. “How do you like it?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about this, honestly,” Courfeyrac said uncertainly. It was extremely sour and had the worst aftertaste he had ever experienced. As he was chewing, he watched Combeferre absentmindedly twisting his handkerchief in his hand. “Wait, wasn’t that ripped?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Combeferre said as his hair seemed to look longer and grayer. He turned around to face Courfeyrac, and the apple went right down the wrong way. It was _not_ Combeferre. 

“M-Madame?” Courfeyrac choked, his face turning bright red, trying to breathe. “ _Why?_ ”

“You should’ve figured out sooner, I’m sure you little nerdy sweetie wouldn’t mess up a literature quote,” Madame said with a smirk. 

“Y-you--” Courfeyrac struggled to say, trying to force the apple out of his throat by pushing on his stomach but failing, “ _Never_ \--call--him--that!”

“Or what? You’re too busy choking to stop me,” Madame sighed, picking at her nails, “Where is a prince when you need him? He probably doesn’t even remember you. Most men don’t. They find something else to fixate their attention on, whether it’s another woman, or another man, or even their own child concerns them more than you. Even when they seem like they’re the most _perfect_ person in the world--” Courfeyrac was on his knees “--their feelings will turn out to be only a fantasy, and they won’t ever come back to you. _Never_.”

Courfeyrac fell to the floor unconscious, and Madame laughed, nudging him hard with her foot. He didn’t move. She took off the useless glasses as she left the house with a triumphant smirk on her face, pretending that nothing was happening inside. She bolted the door, just to be sure everything was how she wanted it when Les Amis got home.

Les Amis were returning from their work. Madame knew she had to distract them for one more moment, so she pitched a stone against a tree to get their attention. Living in the woods all the time, though, they barely heard the distraction.

Nonetheless, she quickly ducked under a bush before they could spot her, and they approached the house as if everything was normal. 

Enjolras shook the door handle. “I thought I left it unlocked.”

“Well, _I_ didn’t lock it,” Grantaire replied, testing it himself. 

“I didn’t blame you, I was just saying that I didn’t,” Enjolras retaliated, and Grantaire wrapped his arms around him and hid his face in his shoulder before he got any more annoyed. 

Finally, the door gave in, everyone went inside. Madame stayed only long enough to hear the affirming shout from Marius, “Courfeyrac! Courfeyrac, what’s wrong? Are you alright? Come on, wake up! What happened? Joly, why won’t he wake up?”

Joly knelt down next to his unresponsive friend, taking his wrist and checking for a pulse. “Oh my… he’s…”

“What?” Eponine started shaking Courfeyrac a bit, possibly more than was healthy. “He’s what?”

“I think… if I had to guess, he choked on something and…” Joly was trembling. “He died.”

Grantaire bent down. “Shouldn’t we be able to pull the thing out, maybe? Reach in and get it? Isn’t that what you taught us all to do if someone choked? Or was it shove their chest up and down to get the heart beating?”

“That’s called chest compressions,” Feuilly corrected him.

Joly shook his head. “He’s already gone. We were too late.”

Marius rested Courfeyrac’s head against his shoulder and hugged him. “I don’t want him to be dead, Joly…” he begged, sniffling with tears running down his face. “Please don’t be dead, Courfeyrac… you’re my best friend… ” He was sobbing at this point. 

“Well…” Joly looked down. “There’s nothing that we can do.”

The group couldn’t bear to bury their friend, not yet, so they constructed a coffin out of gold and glass to place him in. They wanted to add flowers, but there weren’t any in season at the time. They spent their days sadly mourning their friend, wishing more than anything that they could bring him back. 


	9. Chapter 9

Combeferre was riding through the woods, wondering what he was going to do now. He had made it clear that he didn’t want to go back to the castle, but he didn’t have many other options. 

Finally, he decided he would stop by the kingdom in which he had met Courfeyrac. Maybe he had an idea of where he could go. Although, he might suggest that he stay in _that_ kingdom, which Combeferre didn’t mind the idea of. He enjoyed thinking about sharing a home with his friend, sort of like if they were a married couple, even if he’s only met him once. Actually, even the idea of marriage didn’t sound like such a treacherous prospect when Courfeyrac was involved. 

“To think I just fought with my mother over not getting married to someone, and now I want to,” Combeferre laughed to himself. “This is crazy.”

Combeferre made his way through the woods, searching for the castle. He could hardly wait to see his friend again. But when he got to the castle, he couldn’t find Courfeyrac anywhere. He searched all over the grounds, but he was still missing. Even though Combeferre didn’t believe in trespassing into other people’s homes, it seemed suspicious that Courfeyrac couldn’t be even _heard_ anywhere. He had been quite loud when Combeferre had first met him. 

When he peeked over the windowsill to see inside, he could see an older woman, probably Courfeyrac’s stepmother, waltzing down the hall.

“I did it! Everything is just how I want it!” she cheered. Combeferre couldn’t see how getting an entire room cleaned by oneself was such a huge achievement, but he decided to wait and go in when she wasn’t looking. 

He snuck around a corner, watching the woman disappear into a room. He scooted across the floor, making far more noise than necessary trying to get into another. _Scratch, scratch, scratch._

Inside this room he heard sniffing from a corner, but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. He stood up, not realizing that there was a mirror hanging on the wall behind him, and accidentally sent it crashing on the floor. He jumped as the glass shattered, and out popped Jehan, who was curled up in a ball up until this point and squeaked in surprise. 

Combeferre knelt next to the small person, who was shrinking away from him in fear. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you, little one… what’s troubling you?” He had to ask, seeing as the tears on their face weren’t fresh. He approached them gently, and just as carefully wiped their face with his thumb. 

“I’m so tired, sir,” Jehan whimpered. “I've been trying for a whole week to see my friend with my mind, and Madame won't feed me or let me sleep if I don't tell her anything.” They curled up tighter in a ball and cried. “And now… she went to go kill him and I haven’t seen her since.”

Combeferre put his arm over them, letting them sob into his shoulder. “You don’t have to call me sir. You can call me Combeferre.”

Jehan sat up, looking at him. “Sweet, handsome, glasses--you’re Combeferre! Courfeyrac was telling me about you! He thinks you’re really spectacular.”

“Really?” Combeferre blushed at the praise. “You know Courfeyrac? I'm going to find him, would you like a ride? We’ll have to be very quiet getting out of here, but we can do that. We can go find him, warn him, and maybe find somewhere to hide all together. It’ll be okay.” 

Jehan nodded a little and said, “There's someone else I want to find. His name is Montparnasse, and he was very sweet and respectful. I don’t get that much, so I want to thank him.”

Combeferre agreed and helped them out the window--accidentally breaking the glass, but no one was hurt--and over to his horse. The two of them rode off into the woods, figuring that was the most likely place to find who they were looking for. Jehan fell asleep on the horse's mane, and Combeferre made sure they didn't fall off. Soon they came to a clearing full of people, all of them in tears. 

“Excuse me,” Combeferre said, “Do any of you know a man named Montparnasse?”

One of the women nodded and pointed to a figure standing in the shadows, wearing a top hat and puffing away on a pipe. The man stepped out of the shadows and asked, “What do you want?”

Combeferre didn't say a word, but gently lifted Jehan down and carried them over to him. “They wanted to thank you for something. I don't really understand it myself, so I’ll let them explain.”

Jehan woke up a little, but upon seeing Montparnasse in front of them, tried to crawl out of Combeferre's arms and approach him, but tripped and fell into the mysterious man's chest. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry, sir, I just wanted to express... my... gratitude that you, um… didn’t… ” They were losing their nerve, thinking, _he's even handsomer up close._ They flushed red, and began backing away, trying to not faint of exhaustion or embarrassment.

Montparnasse smiled, his green eyes softening, and he wrapped Jehan in his arms, supporting them. Jehan inhaled sharply in surprise, and the man said, “You're beautiful, you know that? The type of cute that people are weak for.” He let a hand brush the dark circles under their eyes, and they yawned. “Sleepy?”

Jehan nodded against his shoulder, half asleep already. Montparnasse was suddenly out of his area of expertise. He had no idea how to handle a sweet, tired person who had fallen asleep in his arms. He sat himself at the base of the tree, still holding Jehan close to himself. Montparnasse shyly kissed Jehan’s forehead, then hoped no one had noticed. He didn’t need someone else telling him he was soft, which he wasn’t. Or was he soft only for this one person in the world? 

Lucky for him, Combeferre's attention had moved to the circle of people.“What's going on?” He asked a brown-haired man.

Marius sniffed, “My best friend died, sir.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I was only looking for my… friend,” Combeferre said quickly, moving towards his horse. 

“It's an open funeral, anyone can come,” Marius sobbed, blowing his nose in his handkerchief, “What we thought Courfeyrac would've liked.”

Combeferre's eyes widened. “Courfeyrac? He's not… dead, is he?”

“It happened while we were out. We're not sure what happened, but we went inside and he was already gone,” Marius explained, and Combeferre's face crumpled. “Did you know him?”

“He… I think he could've been the love of my life,” Combeferre realized as he said it. “After I met him, I couldn't keep him off my mind. He was a mess, to say the least, but he was very sweet and funny. He's the first person to have made me laugh in a long time. I think I was in love, maybe. Maybe I still am.” Combeferre was a little embarrassed to admit that.

“You can go up and pay your respects, if you want,” Marius offered, walking over to the coffin in the middle of the clearing. He lifted the glass cover, and there was Courfeyrac, lying very still. His face was still a little rosy, as if he was just asleep. They all wished he was. 

Combeferre's eyes filled with tears. “No, no,” he said softly, shaking his head. He knelt awkwardly beside the coffin and asked Marius, “How would one properly pay respects to someone?”

“I'm not sure, you could give him a kiss, since you were in love with him,” Marius suggested.

“Isn't that disrespectful? Or creepy? Isn’t there a word for that? What if he wouldn't want me to?” Combeferre asked, trying to to get his emotions under control. He couldn't believe how upset he was.

“Based on how he used to talk about you, I don't think he would mind all that much if you did.” Marius paused to blow his nose again. 

“He talked about me?”

“A lot. He thought you were really handsome, and smart, and sweet--actually, the word he kept using was perfect. He really wanted to see you again after you met.” Marius looked sadly at his friend, “I think he would've actually liked being kissed by you.”

Combeferre leaned over and pushed Courfeyrac's hair away from his face. “You know, I don't think I would mind being kissed by him either.” He sighed, tears still in his eyes as he said, “‘ _Good night, sweet prince, may angels sing thee to thy rest.’_ That’s from Hamlet. I wish I could tell you that as a good-night, not how it was really meant.” He gently kissed Courfeyrac, and put his head down, unable to keep his tears inside any longer. He missed him so much. 

Suddenly, Courfeyrac eyes opened wide, trying to breathe but not able to. Combeferre jumped, and everyone else looked up in surprise. Courfeyrac made some sounds that sounded strained, and Combeferre helped him move onto his side, and with a few pats on the back, choke up the apple he had caught in his throat. 

“He killed me,” Courfeyrac gasped, glancing up and blinking, “Madame… she looked like him and gave me an apple and I was so happy to see him and she used that and he killed me…” 

“Who killed you, Courfeyrac?” Combeferre whispered into his ear gently, rubbing his shoulders, and Courfeyrac rolled onto his back, looking at Combeferre in fear.

“Is it you? Or… or are you fake? Are you going to kill me?” He asked, terror in his voice. 

“No, Courfeyrac, I’m not going to kill you,” Combeferre said, sitting up in shock. He quickly pulled out his handkerchief, wiping his friend’s face, which was now covered in perspiration and tears from choking. The cloth’s hem was torn, and a large chunk was missing.

Courfeyrac’s face lit up with a smile. “It _is_ you.” Combeferre helped him sit up. “How am I… not dead?”

“Well…” Combeferre’s cheeks flushed. “I kissed you--I hope you don’t mind--and you woke up. I don’t know how it worked, but it did.”

Marius raced over and hugged Courfeyrac tightly, and Gavorche joined him. “You’re alive! I didn’t think I would ever see you alive again!” 

Courfeyrac received the hugs happily, then said, “I most certainly do not mind a bit.” He looked down at the ground, regarding what was left of the apple on the grass and sheepishly added, “How romantic, right?” 

“Very,” Combeferre laughed, wrapping him up in his arms. “So it really didn’t bother you?”

“Well,” Courfeyrac said, averting his eyes elsewhere, “I don’t remember it at all, so how am I supposed to tell if I minded or not?” He started to grin as Combeferre blushed. 

“Do you need a reminder?” Combeferre asked shyly. Courfeyrac leaned towards him and nodded excitedly, putting his arms around his partner’s shoulders and leaned forward. 

“Ew,” Gavroche groaned, getting up and walking away, “Now they’re _kissing._ That’s disgusting.”

Cosette caught the little boy in a hug, and Eponine laughed as Cosette smushed a messy kiss on Gavroche’s cheek. “There you go.”

Courfeyrac leaned against Combeferre’s shoulder with a sigh. “So, you read, right? What happens now in your nice stories?” 

“Well, um, so,” Combeferre stammered, the whole time feeling very shy about everyone standing around and celebrating that Courfeyrac was alive, most of all the fact that they had just watched them kiss. “They… usually, the two, um, individuals…” he adjusted his glasses again. “Get married…” 

“Really?” Courfeyrac said asked, eyes lighting up. Combeferre laughed, nodding. “Maybe not quite yet, I still don’t know you very well, do I? Though I definitely like your kissing.”

The noise got so loud that Jehan woke up, looking around confusedly. They realized where they were--still wrapped up in Montparnasse’s arms--and nearly jumped out, toppling over backwards. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, I just haven’t slept in days--Courfeyrac!” Their eyes lit up, and they stumbled over to their friend, hugging him tightly. “You’re not dead!”

“Not anymore,” he laughed, hugging them back, “You’re out of the mirror?”

“I know,” Jehan said excitedly, showing off their arms, “I’m not stuck! I can go wherever I want now!”

While the friends talked, Montparnasse sat in the grass, feeling rejected. Jehan was clearly more interested in being with their friends, and rightfully so. They barely knew him, after all, but they were so cute and adorable, light blue eyes sparkling. He wished that he could make those eyes sparkle that much. 

He stood up, brushed the dirt off his backside, but as he started walking away, something assaulted him quite aggressively from behind. 

“And just _where_ do you think _you’re_ going?” Courfeyrac had grabbed the back of his jacket and was pulling him backward violently, almost making Montparnasse fall on his back again. “My friend here happens to like you, and you’re going to just up and leave without even saying goodbye? What sort of manners do you have, monsieur?” 

“Be careful with that!” Montparnasse whined, pulling his coat properly, “This is silk. Seeing as my job is done, I was going to not bother you all anymore and be on my way.”

Jehan came up next to him, looking sad and hurt. “You don’t want to stay?” 

Montparnasse couldn’t tell if the look they were giving him was genuine or just trying to manipulate him, but either way, it was working. “Well, I just thought you were busy--”

“I’m not busy this afternoon,” Jehan suggested, then blushed. 

Montparnasse grinned. “Oh, all right, Flower, I’ll stay.” Jehan shyly approached him and kissed him on the cheek, and it was Montparnasse’s turn to blush. 

Courfeyrac was suddenly distracted by Combeferre coming over, and he hugged him with an overdramatic and surprise kiss. “What was that about?”

“I feel like I’m in a fairy tale,” Courfeyrac sighed, and Combeferre laughed. “Is it strange that I haven’t known you all that long, but I love you more than anyone else?” 

Enjolras and Grantaire were now debating over what they were going to do with the coffin, now that Courfeyrac had stopped being dead. 

“I don’t know what we’re doing with it, but I know for sure that _no one_ is going to sleep on it! I will see to that,” Enjolras exclaimed as Grantaire shrugged. It shocked Enjolras that Grantaire could be so calm about actually selling the coffin as a bed. 

“But it looks just like a bed, doesn’t it? It’s got a pillow, a mattress-like thing--”

“Yes, as a _final_ resting place! Doesn’t that disgust you at all?” 

“Well, the way you out it, it does. But no one will be able to tell if you don’t say anything!”

“Grantaire, it literally says right on it, ‘Rest In Peace.’ Isn’t that slightly suspicious?” Enjolras was getting fed up. The worst part being, he didn’t actually like arguing with his husband. 

“Look,” Grantaire suggested, taking both of Enjolras’s hands in his own, “Why don’t we just melt the metal down and sell it to some blacksmith? It won’t matter what form it’s in, just as long as it’s metal.”

“And the glass?” Enjolras asked, more calmly now. Grantaire hugged him carefully, resting his head on his shoulder, patting his hair. “It’s shaped strangely for any windows to be made from it.” 

“Actually, speaking of windows--”

“I can’t believe this, Combeferre’s going to talk about windows when he’s holding the love of his life,” Bahorel whispered to Feuilly. “That’s insane.”

“--Courfeyrac, you might want to replace the glass in your stepmother’s window,” Combeferre said awkwardly, laughing nervously. “I didn’t mean to kick the window, I didn’t know it had a pane in it--”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Courfeyrac said, “She can deal with it. I don’t ever want to go back there ever again in my life. She’s broken enough of that, she can handle a window.”

“What else did she break?” Combeferre asked, concerned.

“She broke my heart into pieces because she made me believe you didn’t care about me anymore,” Courferyac said softly. “And I didn’t want to believe it. But I almost did.”

“I will always care about you,” Combeferre said suddenly, realizing that it was the one thing he really wanted at this moment, to promise Courfeyrac everything. 

“How do you know? Things can change over the years, and maybe you might not want me anymore,” Courfeyrac replied, though didn’t move his head from his partner’s shoulder. 

“You will see,” Combeferre said with a smile.


	10. Chapter 10

The two young princes were married a few years later, allowing some time to pass so they could really get to know each other. Needless to say, Courfeyrac was happier than anything to see that their love hadn’t dissipated over those years. 

They decided it would be best to stay out of their respective kingdoms and stay where they knew they were both safe. Though, Montparnasse did leave for a few days, not saying where he was going, but promised to Jehan that he would be back soon, at some point. He just had some things to fix. 

Madame had resolved to enjoy her reign over the kingdom, finally the beauty she had always wanted she had and the stepson she hated disposed of.

She was in the middle of fixing her hair in the morning when the door creaked open. “Yes, messenger? What is it that you have for me?”

There were some menacing-sounding footsteps, like someone treading in heels. The smell of smoke seeped into the room like tea in hot water, and Madame could feel her hair pricking up. A paper was tossed on the table in front of her, and she picked it up, noting the intermittent huffs of her mysterious guest, most likely smoking something.

“‘Get lost’? What’s this supposed to mean?” she asked. The person had positioned themself so they could not be seen behind her in the mirror. All she could see was their top hat over her head.

“Heard you killed a kid, and your stepson no less,” the person said, “And I don’t like people who think they killed a kid.” 

“ _Think_ they killed a kid?” Madame turned around to see Montparnasse standing there, arms crossed with a pistol in one hand. 

“You also hurt a very sweet little person who did nothing to you.” Montparnasse advanced, the look of murder in his eyes. “ _No one_ does that to my flower and gets away with it.”

Madame let out a nervous laugh. “What are you going to do to me? Shoot me?”

Montparnasse didn’t even bat an eye. “You think I’m joking, do you? Step off the throne and give Courfeyrac his rightful place on the throne with his lovely new husband, and I won’t shoot. Stay where you are, and… well, let’s just say things will get very messy for you.” 

Needless to say, Courfeyrac and Combeferre stepped up to the throne very soon after that. Marius, Gavorche, and Jehan were thrilled to have their friend still alive. Montparnasse decided to stay in the area, instead of moving on as he usually would do after a job. He claimed his main reason was that he liked the housing situation that the young couple offered him in the castle--but really, he wanted to stick around to see Jehan as often as possible, which made them very happy. 

Enjolras and Grantaire were able to find their own place, along with the other Amis. Their new homes were right nearby the castle, and were free to visit anytime they wanted. Courfeyrac and Combeferre wanted their door to always be open to those in their kingdom that were in need, even if they didn’t really need anything. 

And, as they always do, they all lived happily ever after. 

  
  



End file.
